


resurrection and other feats of magic.

by mirkandmidnight



Series: climbing out of the grave [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Good Original Percival Graves, Protective Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: Percival Graves returns.Based onthis postwritten by me





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Now with supplemental notes!](http://pretentiousandfrench.tumblr.com/post/155579363649/ok-i-like-the-way-your-fic-about-graves-returning)

The Monday after the Grindelwald incident, Percival Graves storms into MACUSA, face covered in bruises and scrapes, limping slightly, stops at the bottom of the main staircase, and looks up at the wizards and witches milling about. He clears his throat and starts slowly up the stars, dragging his left foot, and stops at the reception desk. 

The witch behind it pops her gum and continues her work, not even looking up at him. He slams his good hand down on the desk. She looks up, the start of a glare on her face, until she sees the look on his face. He smiles, and his teeth are outlined in blood. It's not a particularly pleasant smile.

“I'd like to see Madam Picquery, please,” he says.

She gulps, but gestures to the staircase leading upwards. “Go right ahead, sir.”

Graves doesn't spare her a second glance as he stalks up the main staircase, pushing past well dressed witches and wizards who eye him with distaste, if not outright alarm. Someone is going to pay for the last month he's spent locked up in some cellar, drugged. He just hopes the damage hasn't been too extensive already.

He makes it about five paces into the Auror department before Tina Goldstein stands up from her desk and starts flinging spells at him with alarming speed. Good. He's trained her well, obviously. But he's much faster, and deflects the curses with a flick of his wrist. 

Graves presses on down the hallway towards the president's office, deflecting spells and dodging a few well aimed punches. Apparently the damage has been a lot more than he realized. 

President Picquery's office is at the end of the hallway, so he makes for it as quickly as he can. The entire department may be on his tail, but he'll be fine if he can just get into her office. 

A terrible thought strikes him. If things have gone so sour here, can he really be sure the president is safe? He breaks into a shuffling jog and makes for the door. He opens it, gets inside, and slams it shut behind him, locking it in the same motion. Outside, the Aurors start trying to break in. He scans the room, gaze lighting on a heavy bookshelf. He makes a hooking gesture with his fingers, and the bookshelf floats over and lands in front of the door. 

Graves sighs. Then someone clears their throat and he's instantly on the alert. He whirls around, and sitting at her desk is Seraphina Picquery, quill pen poised over a sheet of parchment, ink dripping from the nib and obscuring some of the words. She puts the pen back into the inkwell and stands up.

“You look like hell,” she says.

That breaks the spell, and he rushes forward to her side, grabbing her shoulders and holding her at arms length distance, staring at her as if he isn't quite sure that she's real. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, and starts patting her down, checking for any injuries. 

Seraphina bats his hands away. “Nevermind that, where have you been? And what in the blazes have you done to my Aurors?”

Behind them, there's the sound of bodies flinging themselves into the wood in a desperate attempt to get inside. Seraphine moves toward the door, but stops in front of the shelf blocking it. She looks back over her shoulder at Graves, one eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip.

He moves the bookcase aside with a sigh. She opens the door just enough to poke her head through, and over her shoulder, he can see three or four Aurors standing in the hallway.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asks.

Goldstein, who's in front, at least has the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, ma'am. We thought he'd gotten loose somehow and was coming to kill you.”

“Yes, well, you are certainly to be commended for your enthusiasm.” She opens the door farther, so they can all see him. “However, perhaps you'd like to explain to me how Mr. Grindelwald would have managed to turn himself back into Mr. Graves without his wand.”

She lets that sink in for a moment, then continues. “Next time, perhaps take a moment to think before attempting to break into my office. Unless you think I'm incapable of defending myself?”

The Aurors mutter apologies, and the hard glare on her face softens slightly. “You have good instincts. Just take minute to think before doing something rash.” She shuts the door and turns back to Graves, leaning against the door. 

“It's been like this since the fiasco with the Obscurus,” she says, then catches herself. “I'll have the report sent to you later on.” She goes back to sit down at her desk. “Have a seat, please.”

Graves does so. “Grindelwald?”

She waves a hand. “We'll get to him. Where have you been?”

He leans back in his chair. “I was locked in a cellar and drugged by Gellert Grindelwald every morning. He didn't come back for a few days, the drugs wore off, and I escaped.” Graves raises an eyebrow. “What's happened here, and since when have we been dealing with an Obscurus?”

Seraphina sighs. “I hate to say it, but that explains quite a lot. We discovered a few days ago that Grindelwald had been impersonating you for quite some time, with plans to use an Obscurus as some kind of weapon. It appears that he was quite adept at getting anyone out of the way who might notice the difference between you two. Explains why Ms. Goldstein was demoted when she was.”

Graves does his best to contain the rage that's simmering in the pit of his stomach. “Do you mean to tell me,” he says slowly, “that I was being impersonated for an entire month and no one, not even you, noticed?”

“Of course I noticed,” she snaps. “But I could hardly announce it to the whole world without making the double suspicious, could I?” She reaches for the half-empty glass of water of water on her desk and takes a sip, fingers trembling. “The city was almost destroyed and you weren't here, Percival. I need my right hand at my side.”

The look in her eyes is so uncharacteristically earnest that Graves finds himself nodding without thinking.

“What about the Obscurus?” he asks.

Seraphina hesitates. “We had to kill it. I did what I thought was right, but Grindelwald's influence had gone too far with the child. There was no other choice.”

He stands up, suddenly filled with a fury that is razor sharp. Seraphina might have given the orders, but the child had died because of his negligence and foolishness and Grindelwald's influence, and that damned dark wizard was going to pay for what he'd caused.

“Where is he?” Graves asks, voice tight. “I'm going to kill him.”

But before he can get far, Seraphina leans over her desk and stands, features set in grim determination. She grabs him by the chin and turns his face so that he's forced to look her in the eyes. 

“No,” she says, the grip on his face becoming almost painful. “Pull yourself together, Percival. I need you here, and you can't very well be of service to me if you're rotting in some prison cell for attempting to kill the darkest wizard of our age before he goes to trial. Not to mention, the damned Germans would have my head. Are we understood?”

“Yes,” Graves says, teeth gritted. He may not like it, but there is a reason that Seraphina Picquery is the president of MACUSA and he is her hunting dog. He takes orders.

She lets go and straightens. “Now, go get yourself cleaned up and get back to work. Dismissed.”

He clicks his heels and walks out, suppressing a grin as he passes a pair of fearful-looking Aurors. It's good to be back.


End file.
